True Colors Deleted Scenes
by TwiLyght Sans Sparkles
Summary: All the scenes that didn't make the final cut. Oneshots follow all characters, in all genres.
1. Hold Back the Night

_These are all of the scenes that were cut from the final versions of _Defiance _and _True Colors. _Why am I publishing them, you ask? Well, mostly because I've started a sequel (_Starlight_) but didn't realize until after I'd written that scene that I'm not yet up to speed with the Linder-Greengrass-Malfoy clan. So I'm writing these scenes down and submitting them for your enjoyment in the hopes that I can bring myself up to speed as quickly as possible. _

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><p>June 23, 1997<p>

It seemed to Asteria that her mother had only recently discovered the joy of slamming things. Three days ago, she slammed a dishtowel on the counter, picked it up and threw it on the floor. Yesterday, she hurled a book against the wall before burying her face in her hands. Today, she vented her wrath on every door in sight.

The front door to the Greengrass home swung closed with a crash that made Asteria wince. Frieda swept past her husband and daughters, parting them like Professor Snape parting a crowd of Hufflepuffs, and took her place in the parlor doorway, hands on her hips.

"I thought I asked you not to smoke in my home, Papa."

Anton Linder turned, exhaling a puff of smoke from the cigarette he held between two fingers. "I've cleared it all out, Frieda. You won't smell it."

"I can smell it now."

"A simple charm will rid you of that problem, _Ja_?"

Frieda snorted, taking a few steps into the small, windowless room. Anton turned back to the painting, taking another draw on his cigarette.

"The funeral went well, then?"

"Of course it did. Just as you planned it."

Asteria dared a few steps into the parlor, watching her mother and grandfather stare at the painting of the Alps. She had never noticed the portrait before this moment, but now it seemed more like a window than a painting—a small portal to the snow-capped peaks of Switzerland.

"And my little friends were in attendance?"

Frieda snorted again; it sounded a bit like a laugh. "Naturally."

"Who?"

"Oh, anyone who was anyone. Nott brought his son. Travers gave a fine eulogy—as fine as you can expect from a man like that. Yaxley made a toast."

"Rodolphus?"

For the first time in a week, Frieda cracked a smile. "He brought the firewhisky Yaxley used for his toast. I'm surprised he had any left, by the time Travers began his speech."

Anton chuckled. "I can't say I'm surprised, after what Bellatrix did to him." He exhaled another cloud of smoke. "Was she there?"

"No, thank God. I don't think I could have kept myself from throttling that woman."

"She wasn't always like that."

Frieda sighed. "I know, I know. And Dolohov wasn't always a merciless _Saukerl, _and Malfoy wasn't always an elitist prat."

"Frieda!"

She swore softly, tears thickening her voice. "I'm sorry, Papa. I just—seeing all of them there, when I knew it was them who—who made you…."

Anton put out his cigarette and pulled his daughter close, letting her cry into his shoulder. When her tears were spent, he placed his hands on her shoulders, holding her at arm's length so he could look her in the eye. "Look at me, _Liebchen. _It wasn't them who drove me to flee. It was their master."

Frieda sniffed. "One and the same."

"No, they're not, and you know it." His voice was gentle, but stern. "Those are not good people, but they are still human. I was there when they needed me, and they haven't forgotten that. Now they think me dead. The least they can do is pay their respects."

"It's the _very _least they can do."

"Frieda, be reasonable."

She wrestled free of his grip. "I _am _being reasonable. _You're _the one who's gone mental! Faking your death to escape the most powerful wizard in Britain, running off to _Canada, _of all places—do you really think he won't find you? He found Karkaroff!"

"Karkaroff didn't take my advice, _Liebchen._" He drew her into his arms, stroking her back and her hair as if she were still a small child. "Don't worry about me, Frieda. I'll be fine. I _have_ done this before, you know."

She sniffed again, and Asteria knew she was still crying. "That was for Hitler."

"Hitler had wizards on his side."

"He was a Muggle."

Anton drew a long breath, letting it out in a soft chuckle. "You're determined not to believe me, aren't you?"

Frieda sniffled.

He held her for another long moment. Sensing the conversation was over, Asteria glanced at Daphne. The two sisters shared a nod, and stepped out of the parlor.

"Teri, come here, will you?"

Asteria froze mid-step. Anton was looking at his daughter, but Asteria had the sudden feeling he had known she was listening in. Heart pounding, she came forward. Her grandfather put a hand on her shoulder.

"Do you remember what we discussed?"

"Before—" She started to say 'Before the funeral,' but the hollow look in her mother's eyes stopped her. "Before today, you mean?"

"_Ja_." He drew a breath and turned away, back toward the painting. For a long moment, the only sound in the house was that of the grandfather clock ticking away, and the occasional branch scraping against the outer wall. Finally, he looked at her. "Asteria, did I ever tell you about the day I met Gideon Prewett?"

"No. You—you told me about him, but…."

Anton sighed, looking back at the painting as if watching his memory play out within the frame. "It was raining that night. For once, my home was empty. The Dark Lord had gained more power by then, so his Death Eaters no longer needed to hide in my home….though some, like Rodolphus, still dropped by for a few drinks and a chat."

Asteria stood as still as she could. Her throat was dry and she longed for a glass of water, but her grandfather's hand kept her standing where she was. She needed to hear this story, as much as Anton needed to tell it.

"It was so quiet. Everyone was off at Hogwarts….it was just Elise and I. I almost had heart failure when I heard the pounding at the door. Right away I knew it wasn't Death Eaters—they had stopped pounding long ago. Now they knocked, or called out in a friendly way. 'Yoo-hoo, Anton, it's us! We brought the firewhisky!'"

Try as she might, Asteria couldn't picture the black-robed men hollering "Yoo-hoo!" from behind their fearsome masks.

"I ran to the door, and there he was, drenched to the skin. His brother lay on the front step, rain washing the blood away as it flowed from his cuts." Anton shook his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But it wasn't the blood that bothered me. No….it was what Gideon said when I answered the door."

"What did he say?"

Anton's hands shook as he fumbled in his pocket for another cigarette. Asteria heard her mother huff in frustration. Ignoring her, he lit it and drew on it before continuing. "'Bloody hell,' he said. 'We should've taken our chances with the Death Eaters.'"

"You wouldn't have turned him in, though," Asteria said, looking up at her grandfather. "I mean….they were your allies, weren't they?"

"_Ja. _But I was the only one who knew it." He exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Oh, they learned in time. I brought them in and had your _Oma_ fix up Fabian as best we could. But Gideon never left his brother's side. Never left us alone with him, even when I told him we were Order sympathizers. It took half a year before they trusted us." Anton shook his head. "I suppose, as a spy, I played my part too well."

"It kept people safe, though….didn't it?"

"_Ja. _And the Prewetts became the most valuable smugglers on my team. The best warriors. Five Death Eaters had to take them down….." He sighed, and then faced her again. "Do you understand what I am telling you, _Liebchen_?"

"I….I think so," she said, though she didn't understand in the slightest.

Anton drew on his cigarette again. "If you become a spy for this Dumbledore's Army…." He chuckled. "Such a clever name."

"If I become a spy…."

"You will help your family. Your parents…." He glanced at his daughter, then to the doorway where his son-in-law lurked somewhere beyond. "It will be easier for them to help me if you are respected by the Death Eaters who will no doubt be in place at your school."

"There were only two, this past year." Snape and Malfoy.

"That you know of. But when the Ministry falls, Hogwarts will also fall. Death Eaters will be your teachers, your fellow students. And if you do what I am suggesting you do, you will have to get very close to them."

Asteria nodded. "I can do that_, Opa_."

He turned his blue gaze on her sharply. "And can you handle everything that comes with it?"

"I….I think so."

Anton let out another puff of smoke. "This will not be easy, Asteria. When you become the Death Eaters' darling, you will become a traitor to your own House."

"I…I might not be their darling, _Opa_. They probably won't even like me."

"If you act sweet while spouting their rhetoric, they will."

"I thought you said they were cruel."

He sighed. "_Ja._" But I have seen their kind before. They love it when cruelty hides behind a layer of innocence. A pureblooded Ravenclaw who puts ribbons in her hair and knows Unforgiveables inside and out will make them laugh." He looked at her again. "If you choose to do this, _Liebchen, _your Housemates will hate you. They will whisper about you and shun you. And when you fall, they will kick you and spit in your face."

"Papa, what are you doing?" Frieda hissed.

"I'm telling her the truth." He looked at Asteria again. "We need you to do this for us, Asteria. But you need to know that the price you pay for their respect will be high. Now. Are you still willing?"

Asteria tried to suppress a shiver. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

Anton smiled faintly. "You always have a choice. If you say no, you can spend this year hiding in your common room, refusing to condemn the Dark Lord's regime while turning in homework that always receives full marks. You can be invisible, _Liebchen, _as long as you want to be. But know that if you stay in the shadows, the dark will only come closer."

She blinked. "I….I don't understand."

He put a hand on her shoulder and steered her toward the kitchen. Frieda planted herself in the doorway. "Papa, you can't go near the windows. Someone will see you!"

"We're stopping right here." True to his word, they did. He knelt down, pointing out the kitchen window several yards away. "Look, Teri, and tell me what you see."

She squinted. "Stars?"

"Very good. And can you tell me what stars do?"

"Twinkle?" she said after a pause.

Anton chuckled. "Yes, but more than that." He stood. "Have you ever seen a night with no stars?"

"Of course."

"Tell me, what did it look like?"

After a moment, she shrugged. "Darker than usual. It…it seemed kind of desolate."

He patted her shoulder. "Exactly. Stars do more than just add beauty to the darkness; they hold it back. Without them, it feels as though the night is closing in, pressing against the windows and crashing on top of you. The stars keep the night back where it belongs, holding it in place until the sun can rise. But the night doesn't mind them, because they are a part of it."

Asteria smiled a bit. "I'd never thought of it that way."

"I know." He tipped her chin so she met his gaze. "So what do you think_, Liebchen_? Will you do it?"

She paused. A quick answer would not be believed, but she already knew what she would say. "Yes. I'll do it."

For the first time in months, her grandfather's smile reached his eyes. He drew her into his arms. "I knew you would. You'll do fine."

Asteria tried to believe him.


	2. At the Funeral

June 23, 1997

Cool night air had crept in by the time Asteria managed to escape the funeral. She paused in the doorway, hugging her torso as she closed her eyes and breathed deep.

"Who's there?"

The rough voice made her jump and snapped her eyes open. Blinking, she looked around and behind, but saw no one.

"I said, who's there?"

Asteria swallowed. The voice wasn't one she knew. "It's just me."

"And you are?"

"Asteria Greengrass."

The voice chuckled. "Anton's granddaughter, aren't you? C'mere."

She followed the voice around a corner, her footsteps creaking on the wooden porch, green leaves reaching out to touch her hair. Her fingers brushed her wand, and her heart pounded.

Rounding the corner, she saw the voice belonged to a tall, bearded man with dark brown hair. Right away she knew he was a Death Eater: like the others present at Anton Linder's funeral, he wore his heavy black uniform in place of mourning wear. He rested his elbows on the wooden railing, staring off into the distance. One hand held a bottle of firewhisky.

A board squealed as she stepped on it, and he turned brown eyes on her—a very light shade, gleaming in the dim light. He looked her over, and then returned his gaze to the tree-covered slope, stretching into the distance. "Well, come closer. I ain't Fenny, you know."

"Fenny?"

"Greyback. Bloody big werewolf."

"I know who he is." Saying he wasn't Greyback must be his way of saying he wouldn't bite, Asteria reasoned. She took a few steps, stopped, and considered her options—stand next to an inebriated Death Eater, or keep a healthy distance and risk his drunken rage?

She came forward, taking her place at the rail beside him. He smiled, lifting the bottle to his lips. "Anton's granddaughter. I should've guessed."

"You're not going to say I look just like him, are you?"

The Death Eater looked at her in surprise. "Why?"

She shrugged, forcing a smile. There was no way of knowing if her joke would anger him, but it was too late to back out now. "I'm just sick of hearing I look like a man, that's all."

The Death Eater laughed, long and loud, until it faded at last to a cough. He took another swig of firewhisky, and laughed again. "A man'd have to be blind to say you look like one."

A small, genuine smile came as she gazed into the distance. "I've heard that, too." From here, she could see for miles. The hill, thick with trees, sloped downward from her grandfather's home. The only ones she recognized were the birches, their white trunks seeming to glow in the fading sunlight. "Mother's mentioned dressing me in a potato sack, once or twice."

He snorted. "As if that'd keep 'em away." He sipped again. "Just like Bellatrix."

With a jolt, she realized who this man was. "You're Rodolphus? Lestrange?"

Rodolphus smiled. "Ah, so I've been found out." He lifted the bottle in a mocking salute, took a swig, and offered it to her. After a moment's hesitation, she accepted the bottle and took a tiny sip. The firewisky burned her tongue and throat all the way down. Rodolphus took it back with an amused smile.

"Frieda won't let you near the stuff, eh?"

"No," Asteria said when she got her coughing under control. "We usually just have wine."

"Ah." He took another long swig. "Just a glass or two, yeah?"

She nodded. "Around the holidays."

"Sounds like Frieda. Never was a drinker. We'd break out the wine, the mead in the common room—she'd have one glass. One glass and call it a day." Rodolphus shook his head, chuckling. "Said she didn't want to take her exams drunk."

"I'd say that's a good strategy."

"You would, would you?"

"I'd _die_ if I failed an exam."

Rodolphus laughed. "You must be the Ravenclaw."

"That's me."

"Your sister's the Slytherin, then?"

"Yeah."

Rodolphus nodded, and a minute passed in silence.

"Can't believe he's dead."

"Me neither. I...it was so sudden." She shivered as she thought of her grandfather planning his own funeral, and hoped Rodolphus Lestrange wasn't a Legillimens.

"Heart failure, wasn't it?" She nodded, but he wasn't looking. "God. Thought he'd outlive us all."

Asteria watched his face. "He's a good bit older than you, isn't he?"

"Old enough to be my father," Rodolphus said, taking a swallow of firewhisky. "But working for the Dark Lord's a dangerous job. Probably would've gone to Azkaban sooner—died, even—if Anton hadn't stepped in."

She watched the sky darken from red and gold to grey and blue. Her grandfather had told this story before, but it would be interesting to hear Rodolphus' take on it.

"They were after me." Rodolphus's voice had dropped to a whisper. "I couldn't see 'em, but I knew they were there. Still stranded where I'd Disapparated from, but they'd tracked me down before. So I ran up to the first house I saw. Broke in—never thought to knock." He chuckled. "'Course, if I'd known who lived there…." He shrugged. "But—past's the past.

"So there I was, standing just inside, ready to fight whoever stepped out first. That's what Bella would've done—had done—why I was on the run in the first place. Ministry didn't care it was _her _who tortured 'em while I just watched."

Asteria could have added that passively watching an innocent family tortured was almost worse than being the torturer, but held her tongue.

Rodolphus drew a breath and took another swig. "Anton came in, wand out. Then he said, calm as could be, 'What is your name, stranger?'

"I just stood there, wand still trained on him. 'Don't come any closer,' I said. 'I'll kill you.'

"'I believe you,' he said. 'But I also believe you are in some sort of trouble, _Ja_? If you come inside, we can discuss this like civilized people, rather than dueling it out like animals.' And just like that, he had me Disarmed.'" Rodolphus shook his head, chuckling. "Thought he was going to kill me, but he took me in and had his wife make us some tea."

"What did you talk about?"

Rodolphus laughed. "He _reasoned _with me. Didn't beg or plead. Just told me the facts. 'My name is Anton Linder. You may know my daughter, Frieda. You do? Good. As you can see, our house is nothing fancy. I have not turned you in, though I know you are a wanted man who I could trade to the Ministry for quite a lot of Galleons.' Right then, I knew he wouldn't. And now…." He swallowed. Was Asteria mistaken, or did she hear tears in his voice? "God. What I wouldn't give to talk with him again. I'd take Bellatrix along. Imperius her if I had to."

"_Opa_ knew her, too, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but she never listened to him. Even when he was giving her directions to the loo. Always thought she knew better than he did…."

"Did…." She swallowed, wishing she hadn't begun the question. "Did you listen to him?"

"When I thought he was right, I did. I thought he was wrong about Bella, and look at me now."

"You look okay to me."

Rodolphus gave her a sad smile, taking a swig from his bottle. "Can't trust looks. Dark Lord don't look like much, but he won Bellatrix…." He swore vilely, his voice regaining strength. "Bastard doesn't even have a nose. Head the size of a pimple—" Rodolphus broke off, glanced behind him, and whirled, holding his wand to her throat. "You tell anyone I said that and I'll kill you!"

Asteria managed a sardonic smile. "You really think I would? Please. What good would that do me?"

Rodolphus cocked an eyebrow.

"I mean, honestly. I'm a Ravenclaw. I've never even _seen _the Dark Lord, and none of the other Death Eaters here tonight offered me firewisky. Besides." She smiled. "I think it's funny that the Dark Lord has a tiny head."

"Well, he does." The wand was withdrawn and tucked back into his belt. He sighed, resuming his morose staring into space. "Anton." The name was whispered. "You sound just like him…."

Asteria felt a pang of guilt. To call Rodolphus Lestrange a good person would be like calling Draco Malfoy a Mudblood. But surely he didn't deserve this grief—especially when the man he grieved would board an airplane for Canada in the wee hours of the morning. How could she let him suffer?

"Teri? Are you out here, _Liebchen_?"

She started. "That's my mother."

"Yeah."

"See you," she said by way of parting, and hurried across the porch. At the corner, she stopped and looked back. Rodolphus was sipping from the bottle again, tears glimmering on his cheeks.


	3. Alecto's Challenge

_Wow...I wasn't expecting so many of you to favorite this after I told you it was out there! Thanks to Off Dreaming for the suggestion! :) _

_I know this one is a bit shorter than the others...and it's kind of random...but then, aren't they all? Hope you enjoy. _

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><p><em>I first saw Asteria Greengrass—really saw her, not just in passing—in early October of that year. Up to that point, she had been nothing more than a face in the crowd, another Ravenclaw to ignore. But starting in mid-September, she began to step out of the shadows. Amycus marveled over her Dark Arts essays. Alecto gushed over her "insightful" remarks in Muggle Studies. It wasn't until her first detention, however, that they sat up and took notice of the youngest Greengrass. <em>

_Once again, I had failed. Alecto railed at me for being unable to punish a bloody Ravenclaw (in that quietly menacing way the Carrows used only with Slytherins) and told me to wait in the corridor while the next student torturer was brought in. She took small, nervous steps through the rows of cells, rearing up on either side of her like dementors. She was pretty—yes, that was the first thing I noticed—but aside from that, she was scared. Her blue eyes kept darting from one cell to the other, from where Alecto's voice came to the empty ones down the way, as if plotting her escape. A tiny prickle of hope cut through my despair: Maybe Asteria Greengrass didn't want to torture her fellow students. Maybe she couldn't. _

"_All right, Greengrass," Alecto said. "Let's see if you can outdo a Slytherin, eh?" Her tone was faintly accusing, faintly admiring. Issuing a challenge. _

"_So….you want me to use the Cruciatus Curse….on Corner here, is that it?" I heard a slight tremor in her voice, and my hopes rose. A Ravenclaw wouldn't torture one of her Housemates. She would fail—but at least I wouldn't be the only pureblood who couldn't master the Curse. _

"_Yes, Greengrass." She took a few steps and I could picture her coming to stand beside Corner, perhaps twisting his ear as she spoke. "Corner here has been a naughty boy. Covering the walls with that nasty graffiti…." I heard a soft smack, then Corner's grunt of pain. She must have hit him in the head with the heel of her hand, as she often did when urging students to pay attention. "Scrubbing it off wasn't bad enough for you, was it?" _

_Corner answered her with silence. _

"_We'll make you pay, anyhow." She cackled, and I heard her cross to the other side of the cell. "Go on, Greengrass. Curse him." _

"_I….I'm awfully tired," she said, "and I've quite a bit of homework. Perhaps tomorrow night I'll—" _

"_You'll do it now, Greengrass, or you'll be chained next." I hugged my knees closer. She would end up chained to the wall, I was sure of it. _

"_So….you want me to make him scream, then." _

"_Of course I do." The purring tone she'd held a moment before was gone. "Stop being an idiot." _

"_And if I make him scream, I can go back to Ravenclaw and finish my homework?" _

"_I don't care what you do! Curse him, or I'll curse you myself!" _

_Another silent moment passed. I hardly dared to breathe. She wouldn't do it. She couldn't. She might know all the right answers, be the granddaughter of one of our most celebrated allies, and exhibit an unusually strong interest in the Dark Arts, but Daphne's little sister wasn't cruel. I had seen the fear in her eyes. At most, Corner would feel a small sting, maybe a sharp pain wherever her curse hit. She couldn't do this. She was like me. _

_It seemed hours before she drew a breath and shouted the word at the top of her lungs. _

_Corner screamed. _

_Not a yelp, not a squeal—a truly agonized shriek that made me cover my ears and squeeze my eyes shut. But nothing I did could block it out: I knew, in the back of my mind, that my Housemates were hearing Corner's scream in our common room. When it ended, I pulled my trembling hands away and slowly lowered them to my lap. _

_Alecto laughed. "Wonderful, Greengrass, wonderful! Again!" _

_I didn't try to cover my ears this time. I buried my face in my knees, squeezing them so tight my arms ached. I wasn't in the dungeons awaiting Alecto's punishment; I was back at the Manor, face pressed against the grass, screaming as Corner screamed. His cries faded to a choked voice, pleading—but that wasn't him begging mercy from Greengrass; it was me begging mercy from a master who wasn't through venting his rage on me. Again and again she said the word. Again and again Corner screamed. And all the while I hid my face, screaming silently as the memory shook me in its fist. _

_It took longer than usual for Alecto to decide Corner had had enough. I think she enjoyed watching a Ravenclaw demonstrate what she had learned—practice what she preached, as the saying goes. _

"_That was magnificent!" She laughed. "Wait until I tell Amycus! And this was your first time, too!" _

_Asteria giggled. "I…I can't believe it! I did it!" _

_I heard another smack. I cringed, thinking Alecto had hit Corner again, but I know now she was only clapping Asteria on the shoulder. "Well done, Greengrass, well done!" _

"_Can I go to bed now?" _

_Alecto laughed. "I've half a mind to cancel your assignment and give you full marks anyway! But you know I do love reading what you have to say, so yes. Get to bed. Finish that essay." _

"_I will. Thank you, Professor." She skipped out of the cell, letting the door swing closed on its own. Metal crashed on metal with a sickening clang. _


	4. Snape's Warning

Asteria skipped down the corridor, raced up the stairs, and gave a little leap when she landed. The grin she'd worn since finishing her detention refused to leave. A giggle burst out of her, echoing in the empty hall.

She had done it. She had really done it.

She leaned against the stone wall and closed her eyes, letting the scene replay in her mind, basking in her triumph. She had done it, and done it well—and Alecto was none the wiser. Where was her teacher now? Telling her brother all about the talented Ravenclaw? Or was she back in her office, putting her down for more detentions? _She can put me down for all the detentions she wants! _Asteria thought with a grin.

"Not bad, Greengrass."

Michael Corner's voice yanked her from her quiet celebration. She opened her eyes and saw him limping toward her, stopping at the wall and sinking to the floor with a long sigh.

"Thanks—why are you limping?"

"Can't act too strong," he whispered, then grinned. "You_ did_ torture me for quite a while."

Asteria laughed. Pointing her wand at Michael while he pretended to scream in pain had worked better than she imagined it would. "I can't believe she fell for it! I—" A soft thump cut off her sentence—whether from the castle itself or one of its occupants, she couldn't be sure. She sent a fear-filled glance down the nearest corridor, but saw no one.

"Don't talk here," Michael whispered, and tilted his head toward the grand staircase. "You head back to the Tower. I'll be there in a few minutes."

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><p>She was breathless when she reached the foot of Ravenclaw's staircase, and by the time she reached the door, she was clutching a stitch in her side. Perhaps running the entire way hadn't been the wisest decision, but she had felt so light, so full of energy, that she hadn't been able to help it. She answered the knocker's question as quickly as she could, and then slipped inside.<p>

As expected, the common room was empty. Her fellow Ravenclaws were often asleep—or, at the very least, in bed—well before curfew, and a quick glance at the clock told Asteria she had made it back to the Tower with barely ten minutes to spare. She frowned. Surely Michael didn't plan to limp the whole way—but if not, how would he explain his strong, steady gait if one of the Carrows crossed his path? She sank into a high-backed chair, shifting her gaze between clock and door.

Thirty seconds were left when she heard an airy voice come from the stairwell. "Who is a friend?"

She heard Michael take a few deep, shuddering breaths. "One who helps in times of need."

"Simple reasoning is often best," the knocker said, and the door opened. Michael stumbled through, clutching a chair for support. Asteria gave him a puzzled smile.

"Michael, what are you doing? The Carrows aren't up here, you know."

He gritted his teeth, knocking an end table to the floor and stumbling after it. "I'm helping you, that's what." The clenched teeth became a grim smile.

Before Asteria could ask for clarification, footsteps pounded against the stairs leading from the dormitories. Several Ravenclaws gasped.

"Michael!" The voice came from Rosemary Neil, a raven-haired sixth-year who broke into a run when she saw her boyfriend trying to stand on shaking legs. She slipped his arm around her shoulder and helped him into the nearest chair. "What on earth happened?"

Michael paused to give a very convincing cough. "Malfoy failed," he wheezed.

"Oh, so this is what failure looks like?" Rosemary scooted her chair forward as the knot of Ravenclaws clustered around them and more students arrived from the dormitories.

He shook his head, coughing again. Terry Boot conjured a glass and filled it with water, then passed it to Michael. He drained the glass and gave a brittle laugh. "Fortunately for Alecto, there was another student down for her first detention tonight."

"Who?" Rosemary asked, but the question wasn't needed. Asteria, who had been standing off to the side, suddenly felt all eyes turn on her.

"It wasn't my fault! Alecto made me!"

"Did she, now?" Trudy Alden's cold voice cut through the silence. "She _forced_ you to torture one of your Housemates?"

Asteria folded her arms, hoping her Housemates couldn't see them shaking. "In a manner of speaking, yes."

A wave of murmurs rippled through the common room.

"She did!" Asteria's voice rose in pitch. "I tried to back out—Michael, tell them! Tell them I tried to leave!"

Michael's eyes found hers briefly, then fell away. "She didn't try very hard. One weak protest, a flimsy excuse, and then our little Asteria discovered the joys of the Cruciatus Curse."

Asteria knew what he was doing. The calm, rational voice in the back of her mind told her that this was for her own good, for the good of her family, and for the good of Dumbledore's Army. A spy whose skills with Unforgiveables were admired by the Carrows would be far more useful than a spy who tried her hardest to avoid performing detentions. Michael Corner was simply doing what she had done in the dungeons: twisting the facts to create an illusion of cruelty. The illusion would be easier to maintain if their Housemates were fooled along with the Carrows.

But as the murmurs grew angrier and the stares of her Housemates grew hotter, she wished he hadn't thought of it. Tears burned her eyes, but no one seemed to notice. She wanted to speak in her own defense, but the lump in her throat cut off any argument she might make.

With a choked sob, Asteria pushed through the crowd and fled the Tower.

* * *

><p>She ran blindly until she reached the bottom of the stairs, bursting through the door without bothering to close it quietly. Wood crashed on wood, and the echo was deafening in the eerie stillness of the sleeping school. Asteria didn't care. She stopped before a wall, bracing her arms against the stone, and gave in to her tears.<p>

Minutes passed before her sobs gave way to silent tears. Footsteps and a lit wand approached, but she didn't recognize the danger until their owner spoke.

"Might I ask what you are doing out past curfew, Miss Greengrass?"

Asteria whirled, slamming her back against the stone. "Headmaster Snape! I—I'm sorry—I-I didn't realize—"

"Didn't realize you fled your Tower and came careening down the corridor like a crazed centaur?" He snorted. "And I thought you were a Ravenclaw."

She swallowed, putting a cool hand to her burning cheek. Had the Headmaster noticed her tears? "I'm sorry. I….I didn't mean to be out after curfew."

He lifted an eyebrow; she took it as an order to continue.

"I….I just completed my first detention. Alecto said I did well, and s-somehow my Housemates heard about it, and—" Her eyes smarted again, and she broke off, searching the Headmaster's dark eyes for any hint of understanding.

"Yes, I heard about your detention. Alecto was still singing your praises when she left my office."

"Oh." That was good news, wasn't it? Everything had gone according to plan—better, in fact—yet all she felt was guilt twisting in her stomach.

For an instant, something akin to a smile flitted over Snape's features. Asteria couldn't decide if it made him appear friendly or sinister. "Since Alecto will most likely murder me if I assign you a detention, I suppose I must let you off with a warning."

"Th-thank you."

He tilted his head back toward the staircase she had fled. "Go back to your Tower. You wouldn't want to miss class tomorrow."

Asteria nodded, peeled herself off the wall, and started toward her common room.

"Miss Greengrass?"

She turned. Snape stood in the circle of his lit wand, his expression enigmatic. "Yes, Headmaster?"

"It would be most unwise to cry in front of your Housemates again."

Asteria's cheeks warmed. He must have seen her tears, then, and guessed at the truth. But why warn her? He surely didn't care about the fate of a single Ravenclaw.

Her grandfather. Snape knew her grandfather, she decided. It was loyalty to the family of an ally that drove him to help her; nothing more. Still, it was nice to have someone care enough to warn her.

She managed a thin smile. "Yes. Thank you, Headmaster."

Asteria wiped her tears with the back of her hand, drew a breath, and walked briskly toward her Tower, head held high.


End file.
